


Romeo-Alpha-Yankee

by DullScissors



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:44:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DullScissors/pseuds/DullScissors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"and you are also my sanctuary from all of this, from just what it does to my insides, convoluted, sharp, like the metal of humvees and guns</p>
<p>sharp like the feeling of believing you will never see home again"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romeo-Alpha-Yankee

you are a beautiful man, 

but you are buckshot and bruise, cordite and gunpowder

left numb and war torn, exposed and open-wounded

with the scent of something far too human, too raw

 

you are dirt, gritty and trapped between clenched teeth

and beneath far too much fabric 

of the wrong kinds of colors, 

jungle greens in a sea of blood and sand

 

you are the way fuck sounds from desperate mouths,

the concussive feel of it at the back of your throat

 

you are all of the layers of silt and earth and erosion 

the metallic tastes of pennies and blood 

and children’s legless bodies 

 

and you are also my sanctuary from all of this

from just what it does to my insides

convoluted, sharp

like the metal of humvees and guns

sharp like the feeling of believing you will never see home again

 

you are strong and strange and laced with Ripped Fuel

and dry coffee crystals masquerading as home

or as something more than all of this that makes sleep

the most desired and impossible of things

 

you are biteable muscle,

twisted like gunmetal, strong like these fists

pale like these deserts we bury ourselves in every night

deep and safe like the graves we dig ourselves to attempt rest

protection like the Kevlar and suits,

like the armor that wasn’t provided, like the foot patrol that wasn’t given

protection like the mortars never could be

 

and you are more real to me

than the sun shining through these makeshift tents

more real and more solid than a trigger beneath the finger,

than a blade grasped, a child held, a prisoner taken, a Life taken

more to me than a war lost or won

more than the knowledge that this war Cannot be won

 

and I want to push you hard to the ground in a different kind of fight

spit-slick lick into you, rip you open to prove to myself

that this fleshy muscle we call heart is still there

still beating, pumping blood

keeping you whole and still human, against all odds

until we make it back home


End file.
